My Love
by ilovecastiel18
Summary: Crowley is dozing in the bookshop when he has a nightmare. Aziraphale is immediately there to comfort him. He ends up playing with Crowley's hair, which he has grown out since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't. And then other things happen. Aziraphale/Crowley. Fluff, all the fluff, nothing but fluff. Romance. Mild hurt/comfort and angst. One-Shot.


**Disclaimer: **Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchet. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

**Summary: **Crowley is dozing in the bookshop when he has a nightmare. Aziraphale is immediately there to comfort him. He ends up playing with Crowley's hair, which he has grown out since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't. And then other things happen. Aziraphale/Crowley. Fluff, all the fluff, nothing but fluff. Mild hurt/comfort and angst. One-Shot.

**A/N: **I saw a post on Instagram of Aziraphale braiding Crowley's hair and absolutely _had _to write a fic where that happened. Also, apologies for the shitty title, I honest to God could _not _think of what to name this fic. Anyway, enjoy!

….

My Love

….

It had been two months since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and Crowley had been trying to distance himself from the event as much as demonically possible. He had started allowing the yellows of his eyes to present as they were, rather than transforming them into regular sized irises (even though they were still yellow and slitted); he had grown his hair out past his shoulders, to the point where the ends swayed near the bottoms of his shoulder blades (it had taken a demonic miracle to make it grow so fast); and he changed his outfit (still black and gray, but the style was slightly different).

He still drove the Bentley, still kept plants in his flat, and still spent time with Aziraphale; but he had tried to change his appearance to the point where, if he came across a mirror, he wouldn't be reminded of the events of a couple months before.

Most importantly, he wouldn't be reminded of walking into Aziraphale's burning bookshop and thinking that the angel was gone forever.

Crowley had started having nightmares a couple of days after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, after everything had calmed down and he and Aziraphale were relatively safe. That was when he started waking in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and gasping, having just relived the worst moment of his life.

Because his Fall wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to him – thinking he had lost Aziraphale was. He could vividly remember getting royally drunk in a bar and not caring if he lived or died, not caring about the end of the world. His world had already ended – Aziraphale was dead.

And then Aziraphale wasn't dead, and they had saved the world, which was something that Crowley was still trying to wrap his mind around.

Aziraphale, on his part, had mostly gone back to normal after Armageddon't. There had been a few instances where he looked worried, or would just barely linger in Crowley's personal space, seemingly convincing himself that they were alright. That Crowley was alright. Sometimes, Aziraphale would lightly touch Crowley's shoulder, or his elbow, just to make sure that his friend was still there.

But that mostly stopped after the first two weeks, which made Crowley feel lonely and pathetic. He didn't want Aziraphale to know that he was having nightmares about that… instance, because he felt ridiculous. Why had the angel gotten over the events so quickly, when he was still having nightmares every time he slept?

So, Crowley had started spending more and more time at the bookshop, needing to be in Aziraphale's presence to convince himself that he was okay. That they had survived the prophesized end of the world, that they (along with a few others) had saved everything.

That's where Crowley found himself today: lounged on the couch in the backroom of the bookshop with Aziraphale sitting primly at his feet. He had his feet thrown over the angel's lap, his head resting on the arm of the couch, and he was listening to Aziraphale read.

Crowley still marveled at the fact that they could be close like this. Before they had been released from Heaven and Hell, neither of them would ever _dream _(okay, Crowley may have dreamt of physical closeness with Aziraphale once or twice, or a hundred times) of sitting like this. They never would have considered having such casual physical contact, for fear of their head offices.

But now, they could do whatever they wanted. Which was something that Crowley was infinitely grateful for.

As the unlikely pair sat and enjoyed each other's company, Crowley found that he wasn't actually listening to the story; he was just listening to Aziraphale's voice, allowing it to lull him into a deep sense of comfort. Eventually, he dozed off, letting the sound of his friend's voice wash over him and make him feel safe.

In hindsight, if Crowley wanted to keep his nightmares hidden from Aziraphale, he shouldn't have fallen asleep in his presence.

_Once again, Crowley found himself sprawled on the floor of the burning bookshop, his chest wet from a blast from the firehose. He felt the ash in his hair and lungs, felt the heat from the flames, felt the horrible, aching pain of Aziraphale's absence. He felt like a knife had been plunged into his chest, leaving him gasping, crying, and blaming it all on the fire surrounding him. As if he, being a demon, wasn't used to being surrounded by flames. He felt a hole open up in his heart as he realized that Aziraphale was gone. He had Fallen from Heaven, and yet he had never felt a worse pain than this…_

Crowley woke with a start, gasping and clutching at his chest. His legs flailed, and he heard a soft "oof" come from the direction of his boot.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale huffed, rubbing his chest where his boot had made contact. "What's wrong?"

Crowley gasped, trying to catch his breath. He felt a pressure behind his eyes, and he forcefully rubbed them to make it stop.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked softly.

"Nightmare. S'nothing, angel." Crowley muttered.

"Would you like to talk about it?" by now, Aziraphale had carefully bookmarked and set aside the novel he had been reading, stroking his hand along Crowley's shin, which was the only place he could reach.

"It's nothing, really." Crowley argued. He tried to infuse a sharp edge to his voice, to get the angel to drop it, but that was counteracted by the tear that dripped from his eye.

"Come here…" Aziraphale pushed Crowley's legs off his lap and motioned to the floor in front of him.

"Wh-what?" Crowley stuttered.

"Come here, you silly demon." Aziraphale replied.

Crowley, unable to refuse his angel, cautiously stood from the couch and dropped to the floor between Aziraphale's knees, still trying to regulate his unnecessary breathing.

He completely stopped breathing when he felt Aziraphale brush his fingers through his long hair.

"Relax, dear." Aziraphale muttered. He started softly combing though Crowley's hair with his fingers, lightly working out any knots or tangles he found. He kneaded Crowley's scalp, brushed his fingers across his forehead and the back of his neck, worked through the curls until his hair was smooth and he was relaxed.

"Do you feel better?" Aziraphale asked quietly, after almost a half hour of playing with Crowley's flaming red hair.

Crowley hummed happily.

Aziraphale continued to brush through his hair with his fingers. "Can I… would you be alright with… I was wondering if I could attempt something? With your hair?" Aziraphale stuttered.

"I don't care, angel." Crowley muttered in a low voice.

Aziraphale used a small miracle to conjure himself a hairbrush, and began brushing Crowley's hair back from his forehead. Crowley felt Aziraphale running his fingers through it, separating strands, and he had a feeling he knew what was happened.

And he was very, _very _disinclined to stop him.

Crowley hummed "Somebody to Love" under his breath while Aziraphale french braided his hair, enjoying the feeling. He had never had another being play with his hair before, but he was _sure _that this was paradise. He would definitely have to be distressed more often, if this was his reward.

Aziraphale kept softly braiding his hair, and Crowley could hardly contain his little happy sighs. Then, the angel got to the strands by his temples and pulled, and Crowley gave a small start.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, did I hurt you?" Aziraphale asked quietly, loosening his grip but maintaining his hold on the hair.

"You could never hurt me, Aziraphale. That spot is just a little sensitive. You startled me." Crowley replied calmly. Aziraphale carefully reached for another strand of hair, brushing his fingers over Crowley's snake tattoo and making him shudder. When Aziraphale started to ask if he was alright again, Crowley cut him off. "This feels divine, angel."

"Oh," Aziraphale muttered. Crowley could hear the smile in the angel's voice, which made him grin. "Crowley, do you want to talk about your nightmare?" Aziraphale asked after a pause. He continued working his fingers through the hair and braiding it.

"Really, it was nothing…"

"It upset you, my dear, which means it was more than nothing. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but please don't play it off as if it didn't hurt you." Aziraphale cut him off.

"I just…" Crowley paused, trying to find the right words. "I dreamt about finding the bookshop on fire. Thinking you were de-" Crowley cleared his throat. "Gone."

"Oh." Aziraphale said sadly, conjuring an elastic hair tie and fastening the end of the braid. "Have you been having them often?" he asked, reaching down to rub Crowley's shoulders.

Crowley cleared his throat. "Every time I fall asleep." He muttered.

"Oh, dear…" Aziraphale whispered. Crowley felt the angel lightly place his hands on both sides of his jaw, and suddenly his face was being tilted backwards. Aziraphale placed a feather-light kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I can't even imagine…"

Crowley turned around so he was facing Aziraphale, tilting his head back to look into the angel's eyes. "I'm just glad you're okay…" Crowley choked out, once again fighting back tears. He screwed his eyes shut to force them back into his tear ducts, where they belonged, when he felt Aziraphale move to sit on the floor next to him. The angel lightly wrapped his arms around Crowley's shoulders and pulled the shaking demon into his chest.

"We're safe, dear; I'm alright. I love you very much, I will never let anything happen to us." Aziraphale muttered into Crowley's hair, making the demon wrap his arms tightly around his friend's waist and bury his face further into his chest. When Aziraphale placed a soft kiss on Crowley's snake tattoo, a small sob escaped him.

Aziraphale held onto him as he cried, whispering reassurances into his ear and stroking his back. When Crowley was done crying, he pulled back from the angel's chest and looked into his eyes, nearly breaking down again when Aziraphale reached up and brushed away his tears.

"I love you too, Aziraphale." He muttered.

"I'm glad you caught that." Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley reached forward and lightly placed his hand against Aziraphale's cheek, giving the angel a watery smile when he leaned into the touch. "Thank you." Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale reached up to his face and covered Crowley's hand with his own. Crowley leaned forward and rested his forehead against the angel's.

"Always, dearest…" Aziraphale muttered. "I will always be here when you need me, Crowley. Never doubt that."

"I never have." Crowley smiled, leaning forward and cautiously kissing Aziraphale.

He had barely pressed his lips to the angel's, barely gotten used to the taste (cocoa, crepes, and a hint of angelic grace, which tasted like a mix of dark chocolate and cinnamon), when Aziraphale pulled away.

"Did I… should I have…" Crowley started to ask, panic rising in his chest.

"There's no need to worry, dear." Aziraphale pulled Crowley toward him, using his angelic strength to pull the demon into his lap. Crowley immediately wrapped his legs around the angel's waist. "I just wanted to adjust our position."

Then, Aziraphale was kissing him again, hard and passionately. Crowley threaded his fingers into Aziraphale's curly hair, running an finger around the shell of one of his ears, as he opened his mouth against the angel's, feeling a tongue that was most certainly _not _his own poke into his mouth to explore.

Crowley gasped into Aziraphale's mouth, making the angel giggle. He felt strong hands take ahold of his hips, and couldn't help but press himself impossibly closer to the angel.

Aziraphale sucked Crowley's bottom lip into his mouth and bit it lightly, causing the demon to moan into the kiss. When he let go, Crowley returned the favor, causing Aziraphale to whimper and press into him harder, unconsciously asking for more.

"Oh, that sound was _delightful…_" Crowley breathed, surfacing for air for less than a moment before diving back in, exploring Aziraphale's mouth. He kept biting the angel lightly, eliciting more soft moans and whimpers that were making him dizzy with pleasure.

After what seemed like an eternity, but also was most definitely _not _long enough, Aziraphale pulled back from the kiss, panting slightly.

"_Angel…"_ Crowley breathed. He was still pressed impossibly close to Aziraphale, still had his hands in his fluffy blond hair. Aziraphale's hands were still clamped down on his hips. Crowley felt like he could keep doing this for the rest of eternity.

"Sorry, dear…" Aziraphale laughed, his voice low. He placed a kiss right under Crowley's jaw, where his pulse was beating rapidly. "I've always wanted to do that." He leaned forward and left a trail of kisses and love bites down the side of Crowley's neck, causing the demon's back to arch.

"Naughty, naughty…" Crowley muttered, leaning forward to kiss Aziraphale again.

This kiss was slow and loving, not heated and fiery, but Crowley enjoyed it just as much as the one before. He wanted to convey exactly how much he loved the angel; how grateful and appreciative he was for the one being that had been there for him for all of eternity. His mouth was pressed firmly but softly against Aziraphale's, his lips moving against their counterparts passionately.

"I love you." Crowley whispered as he pulled away. He leaned forward and pressed his face into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, biting down lightly before straightening again and looking into the angel's eyes.

Aziraphale lifted one hand from Crowley's waist, brushing it across the demon's jaw and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "I love you too, dear. Always." He pulled Crowley's face forward and lightly kissed him on the forehead. "Do you want to try to sleep again?" he asked quietly.

"Only if you're there with me." Crowley muttered.

"Oh, my love…" Aziraphale took one of Crowley's hands out of his hair and kissed the back of it softly. "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."

….

_**A/N: **__This just sort of *gestures vaguely* happened. This was originally supposed to be short and fluffy, and somehow it ended up being long and passionate. Crowley and Aziraphale weren't, originally, supposed to start making out on the floor, but *sighs* shit happens! I hoped you enjoyed this, please leave a review if you like it!_


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